


bruises on both my knees for you

by sighcohpath



Category: Feverwake - Victoria Lee
Genre: Aftercare, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Dara has a praise kink, Dom/sub, Fluff and Smut, Hurt/Comfort, Light BDSM, M/M, Noam's a switch but tops Dara, Past Abuse, Past Rape/Non-con, Relationship Negotiation, Safewords, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, bc it's still Dara, characters are older than canon, looking at you Calix, that means no magic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-22
Updated: 2021-02-02
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:27:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28249128
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sighcohpath/pseuds/sighcohpath
Summary: Magic-less AU where Noam and Dara meet at a BDSM club through their mutual friend Ames. Dara is new to the scene and Noam takes an immediate interest, because of course he does.
Relationships: Calix Lehrer/Dara Shirazi, Carter Ames/Bethany Glennis, Noam Álvaro/Dara Shirazi
Comments: 11
Kudos: 22





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Oof I don't even know. I'm obsessed with these boys and I'm a garbage can so. Here we are. 
> 
> This is my first fic and I have a bunch more ideas but no idea when I'll update. This first ch is pretty tame, so most tags apply to later chs.

Noam was at the club for business, not pleasure. Which was why he accepted the drink Ames slid across the bar to him—he never had so much as a drop if he was scening, but tonight he just wanted a change of scenery. Not that Feverwake’s dungeon-themed decor was particularly inspiring, but Noam had spent way too much time inside his apartment lately.

“You looked like you could use a break,” Ames said, resting her forearms on the wood. Coupled with the leather bustier she had on, that posture gave Noam a fantastic view of her cleavage, but he was quick to shift his gaze to the cocktail.

“Thanks.” He closed his laptop and stretched his neck. Checked his watch. Apparently he’d already been sitting here for the better part of an hour. “I’m almost done with the site update. Just a few more tests to run and I can get out of your hair.”

Ames rolled her eyes, which was fair. Noam was being ridiculously transparent. He didn’t need to come to the club to manage their website, but it served as a good excuse to come by and see old friends without any…expectations. 

“You’re already here, might as well stay a while,” Ames said. She poured herself a shot of whiskey and clinked it against Noam’s glass before throwing it back. “I haven’t seen you in ages.”

Noam sipped his old fashioned—just the way he liked it—and shrugged. “Been busy with work.”

“And that girlfriend of yours?”

Noam took another, longer sip of his drink. “Not in the picture anymore.” 

Ames stuck her bottom lip out. A look that was sympathetic but not terribly sincere. “Her loss.”

Again, Noam could only muster a shrug. Jenny was a sweet girl. A little vanilla, sure, but Noam had really liked her. He’d wanted it to work.

Ames drummed tattooed fingers against the bar. “There’s someone I want you to meet.”

That didn’t take long. Noam set his glass down and gave her a look. “Ames…”

“Bethany agrees you two would be a perfect match,” she said as she started mixing another drink order.

Noam rubbed his face with both hands. “Why are you and Bethany talking about my love life? You didn’t even know I was available until two seconds ago.”

Ames walked away to take care of a couple of other customers. Noam took the opportunity to finish his work on Feverwake’s site, then pack up his laptop. He was draining the last of his old fashioned when she returned, picking up the conversation as though she’d never left.

“Noam, darling, no offense—”

_But._

“—but you don’t have the best track record with dating. You always pick people who are too….”

“What?” Noam snapped when she let the pause drag on too long for his liking.

“Safe.”

Noam frowned. “What does that even mean?”

“It _means_ ,” Ames said as she made him another old fashioned, “that you need someone who’s as smart as you are. Someone who’s gonna challenge you.”

“And you know just the person, is that right Mistress Ames?” Noam said drily. 

Ames replied with a wicked grin. “I might.”

Noam shook his head. Ames had been working at the club—and frequenting it with her girlfriend/submissive Bethany—long enough now she knew just about every member. She knew people’s kinks, their strengths and weaknesses. This wasn’t the first time she’d played matchmaker, and to her credit, several of the couples she’d fixed up were still together. But Noam wasn’t interested. He wasn’t even sure what he was looking for. BDSM hadn’t been a part of his relationship with Jenny, and Noam was… not nervous, exactly. Just. Out of practice.

But before he could make any excuses to Ames, she was flashing her flirtiest smile at the guy who had just approached the bar a couple of stools down from where Noam sat.

“Dara, what can I get you?”

“Depends. Have you acquired any decent scotch yet, or are you still slinging that disgusting rye?”

 _Ugh, what a snob._ Noam took a sip and glanced over at the man, expecting to see a Dom wearing a tailored suit and too much cologne. Instead he found the most attractive guy he’d ever seen inside the club. Or anywhere, for that matter. Dara was several inches shorter than Noam, with a slender—but muscular—frame that was shown off in a black T-shirt that looked painted on and a pair of skinny jeans that were easily two sizes too small.

The clothes weren’t enough for Noam to make a determination, though. Given Dara’s demeanor, the way he spoke with such authority and confidence, Noam was still leaning toward Dom.

“As it happens, I just got a shipment in yesterday,” Ames said. She turned and grabbed a bottle from the bar, then waves it tantalizingly in front of Dara’s face. 

Dara broke into a wide grin and Noam sucked in a silent breath. Dimples. He had _dimples_ for crying out loud. No one person should be allowed to possess a body like his, _and_ gorgeous curly hair that looks soft as sin, _and_ flawless brown skin with a smattering of freckles across their nose, _and_ full, kissable lips, _and_ perfect teeth, and _motherfucking dimples_.

Honestly, it was just overkill.

“Were your ears burning?” Ames finished pouring two fingers of scotch and set it on a napkin in front of Dara. “My friend Noam and I were just talking about you.”

Ames glanced over at Noam with a knowing look, and by the time Dara followed her gaze, Noam’s cheeks were flushed.

“Oh?” Dara sipped his scotch and watched Noam over the rim. 

“Noam’s been a member as long as I have,” Ames told him. “And he takes care of our tech-y needs.”

Noam shifted in his seat so he was facing Dara. “Member privacy, maintaining the website, that sort of thing,” Noam explained.

Dara nodded. “I take it you’re a sub as well?”

Noam raised an eyebrow. Guess he’d been wrong—Dara was a sub. “I’m a switch, actually.”

Dara blatantly let his gaze sweep over Noam’s body, taking in his jeans and hoodie—a wardrobe choice Noam was beginning to regret—before returning his gaze to Noam’s face. “Really.”

Noam’s eyes narrowed at Dara’s flat, unimpressed tone. He felt something flicker inside of him, like a pilot light coming to life. A slow burn and a sense of calm, control.

Ames sucked in her cheeks and tapped the bar top with her palm. “I’ll let y’all get acquainted.”

Noam ignored her, kept his gaze trained on Dara’s perfect face as he lifted his hand and beckoned Dara closer with two fingers. Dara shifted his weight, but stayed put.

With his foot, Noam nudged the bar stool next to his, creating enough space for Dara to stand beside him. After another beat of hesitation, Dara approached Noam. He set his drink down on the bar beside Noam’s, and then raised an eyebrow expectantly.

Fuck. Noam really hated it when Ames was right. He’d been fully prepared to pull her aside and say _really? This guy?_ But now that Dara was right in front of him… all Noam could think about was finding Dara’s pleasure. Discovering Dara’s limits, and what it would take to wipe that smirk off Dara’s face, replace it with a look of desperation.

Dara was a code to be cracked. And that was something Noam could never resist.

“Sit,” Noam said firmly.

Dara audibly exhaled and did as he was told. Noam hooked his shoe under the bottom rung of Dara’s stool and dragged it a few inches closer, so that he fit between Noam’s knees. 

“This okay?” Noam asked.

Dara nodded. “Fine.”

It was Noam’s turn to look Dara over—not that he hadn’t done his fair share of that already. But this close, Noam was able to memorize the deep brown of Dara’s irises, watch his pupils expand the longer Noam held his gaze.

“Tell me about yourself,” Noam said, leaning one elbow against the bar.

“What do you want to know?”

One side of Noam’s mouth quirked. “Let’s start with what you’re doing here.”

“I’m knitting a sweater,” Dara deadpanned. “What do you think?”

Noam raised an eyebrow at that, and held Dara’s gaze long enough for him to shift his weight again. “You’ve got quite a mouth on you.” Noam’s gaze dipped to said mouth, imagining how it would look wrapped around him. “Would you like to try that again without the snark?”

“I’m…interested in the scene,” Dara answered, his voice void of its sass.

“You’re new,” Noam inferred. Dara nodded, a faint flush coloring his cheeks. Well that was adorable. “What are your kinks?”

“I was hoping to figure that out tonight,” Dara said, agitation edging into his voice again. 

“But you’re drinking,” Noam pointed out.

“So?”

Ames was right about another thing—Dara certainly was challenging.

“So I assume you weren’t planning to scene with anyone tonight, since it’s against club policy to drink and play. And it’s an especially bad idea if you and the person you’re scening with don’t already have an established relationship.”

Noam could literally see the effort it took for Dara to bite back a bitchy comment.

“I’m not trying to lecture you,” Noam told him. “Or come off as condescending. I just take this sort of thing really seriously. Especially when someone is new to the scene.”

Dara watched Noam for a long moment, appraising him. “I didn’t really have a plan for tonight,” he admitted. 

“That’s okay.” Noam took another sip of his drink and turned back to Dara. “Have you scened with anyone here before?”

“Yes,” Dara said quickly, as if offended by the implication he was that new. “I did one scene with Mistress Ames—it was short. More informational than anything. She’s not…my type. And I’ve done a couple scenes with Master Kyle.”

Kyle had been a club member for a couple of years. He’d never managed to keep a sub. He wasn’t a complete asshole, Noam supposed. He followed the rules, had never endangered anyone in a scene. But he was just… Incompetent seemed like the most fitting word.

“Not a fan?” Dara asked with a smirk.

Apparently Noam hadn’t kept the derision off his face. He sipped his drink and schooled his expression. “I’ve scened with him myself,” Noam explained. “I found him…lacking.”

Dara let out a small laugh. “Well put.”

Already Noam was struggling to tamp down a wave of possessiveness. Someone like Dara—beautiful, sharp—would have no shortage of interested parties. Even now Noam was aware of several Doms watching them, waiting for their chance to swoop in.

Noam didn’t like the idea of Dara scening with Kyle. With anyone who wasn’t Noam.

“Do you work?” Noam asked.

“I’m in school. Working toward my PhD, actually.”

“In?”

“Astrophysics.”

Oh shit. That was…

“Impressive.” Noam leaned a bit closer. “So you’re going to be a rocket scientist.”

Dara rolled his eyes, then seemed to catch himself, shooting a nervous glance at Noam. But Noam was in a generous mood. He’d let that one slide.

“An astronomer,” Dara corrected. “And you work for the club…Sir?”

A slow smile spread across Noam’s face. He liked the way that sounded coming from Dara. A lot. “Noam’s fine for now. And no, that isn’t my full-time job. More of a favor, really. I work in cybersecurity.”

They continued with an easy back and forth, learning each other’s full names, whether they had pets, what their favorite restaurants and implements of pain were—the basics—until Noam reached for his glass again, only to realize it was empty.

“Another round?” Ames called from down the bar. She missed nothing.

“No, thank you. I should get going.”

“Already?” Dara said. Noam detected a bit of disappointment in his voice, despite how hard Dara was working to keep his expression neutral.

“Afraid so.” Tempting as it was to stay, Noam knew his limits. Any more to drink and his control would start to slip. He might move too quickly, do something he’d regret. And he was way too interested in Dara to let that happen.

Noam tossed a few bills onto the bar to cover his drinks—and Dara’s—and nodded to Ames. “Can I get a pen?”

Ames tossed a pen down and immediately started shaking another cocktail. The club had gotten more crowded since Noam and Dara had started talking; Ames was swamped.

“I don’t come by the club too often anymore,” Noam told Dara as he scribbled his cell number on the back of one of his business cards. “So if you’re hoping not to run into me again, you probably won’t. But if you would like to continue getting to know each other better…” Noam held out the card between two fingers.

Slowly, Dara reached forward and took the card.

Noam flashed him a grin. “I look forward to hearing from you, Dara.”


	2. Chapter 2

Dara traced his finger along the edge of Noam Álvaro's business card. All week he'd debated texting Noam. On the one hand, Dara figured he didn't have much to lose. He'd gone to bed with plenty of men he'd spoken fewer words to. But those men weren't Doms--though a good number of them _had_ been domineering. In any case, Noam seemed harmless enough. He was also incredibly good looking. Ames had talked Noam up plenty after he'd taken off, and Dara had always trusted her advice before. Still, Dara had no trouble coming up with plenty of reasons not to follow up with Noam. Like the fact that if Noam had really been interested, he wouldn't have left the club so early, or left it up to Dara to make a move. Or the fact that if Noam was as wonderful and... _talented_ as Ames claimed, he wouldn't be available in the first place. When she introduced them, Ames had said Noam'd been a member as long as she had--which was years at this point. But when Dara had asked why he hadn't collared anyone--or been collared--in all that time, Ames had just said Noam was picky. Which probably translated to "impossible to please," and if Dara wanted to feel like a disappointment, all he needed to do was remember Lehrer.

He managed to hold out until Thursday, but the weekend was looming and Dara was really hoping to have plans that involved someone other than Wolf.

"No offense," Dara murmured as he scratched Wolf's ears with his free hand.

Despite the fact Dara was fairly sure it would be a waste of time, self-control had never been his strong suit. Dara tapped out a text: _I'm ready to get to know you better_

He hit send and tossed his phone aside, refusing to be one of those people who stared at the screen until they got a response.

 _Desperate,_ a voice in his head supplied. Lehrer's voice--always.

His phone buzzed. Dara definitely did not lunge across the couch for it.

**Good to hear from you, Dara. You free now?**

Dara was tempted to play hard to get. But that sort of defeated the purpose of texting Noam in the first place.

_yes_

**Meet me for lunch. I'll send the address. See you at 1**

Dara checked the time. It was 12:30 now, and anywhere downtown would take ten minutes to get to, which left only twenty to get ready. For a maybe-date. With a Dom.

He scrambled off the sofa fast enough to startle Wolf, and took the stairs two at a time up to his bedroom. Thank fuck he'd already showered this morning, and taken the time to style his hair. Now he just had to pick out something to wear. Something that would please Noam. A part of Dara hated himself for thinking in those terms already. For doing any of this. _Needing_ any of this. But now that it was set in motion, a far bigger part of him was buzzing with anticipation. He thought about what Noam might ask of him while he exfoliated his lips and brushed his teeth. What Noam looked like underneath that hoodie. What he'd taste like.

The next time Dara checked the time, it was ten to one. " _Fuck_." Dara pocketed his phone, wallet, and keys and raced out the door.

...

Dara was out of breath by the time he reached the restaurant. He was also five minutes late. So rather than take a moment to collect himself, he headed straight for the hostess stand and dropped Noam's name. He was led to a quiet table near the back, and nearly stumbled when Noam glanced up from the menu and met his eye. Noam looked... _fine._ Dara had been attracted to him at the club, even in that atrocious sweatshirt of his, but today his clothes were tailored. A jacket was draped over the back of his chair, and the sleeves of his dress shirt were rolled up to the elbows, and he was wearing a tie, and immediately Dara imagined Noam wrapping the silk around his wrists...

The hostess left with a smile and Dara stood awkwardly beside the table for a moment, trying to reconcile this version of Noam with the man he met at the club the other night. "You're wearing a suit," he blurted out.

Noam's brows pulled together, even as a smile tugged at his lips. "What, you thought I only owned hoodies?”

"I just..." Dara looked down at his own outfit--the black jeans and burgundy button-down shirt he'd meticulously picked out. "I feel under-dressed."

"You look great." Dara flushed at the compliment, and Noam gestured for him to take a seat. Once Dara was settled, Noam leaned forward to fold his arms on the table. "And I came straight from work, hence the suit."

Dara sipped the ice water that had already been poured for him. It didn't do much to cool the flush working across his collarbone. "Your office is nearby?" he asked, even though he already knew the answer. Over the past few days, he'd spent more time than he cared to admit learning everything he could about Noam.

"It is. Were you coming from campus?"

"From home."

"Did I not give you enough notice to make it down here on time?"

Dara sucked in a breath. He'd sort of been hoping Noam was just going to blow past that. But Dara knew from experience there was no good answer to that question. Lying wouldn't do him any favors. And even if he legitimately _had_ needed more time, he was sure Noam would just be irritated Dara hadn't said something up front. "I'm sorry I was late," Dara told him. "I was getting ready, and I lost track of time."

Noam stared at him for a long moment. "All right."

Dara watched as Noam flipped over his menu and began to peruse it. "...That's it?"

"I'm not going to punish you, if that's what you're asking," Noam said without looking up. "Though I hope it goes without saying that if we continue to see each other, this can't become a habit."

 _Don't keep me waiting, Dara._ How many times had he heard Lehrer say those words? But it was so different, coming from Noam.

Noam's gaze flickered up to meet Dara's, and Dara nodded shakily. "I understand."

The waitress approached then to take their orders, and Dara tried to focus on his own menu. He asked for the first salad he saw and then returned his attention to Noam. When they were alone again, Noam smiled at him, warm and genuine. "I'm glad you texted. I've thought about you a lot since the club."

Dara looked up at Noam through his lashes. This part he knew how to handle. "Have you?" he asked with a coy smile.

Noam nodded. "How's your week been?"

"Good. Busy--lots of research." Under the table, Dara tapped his foot, impatient. Why had Noam told him to meet at a restaurant, anyway? There were three hotels within walking distance. Or Noam's office, even. From his title, Dara gathered he was fairly important at work--surely he had his own office, with a door, and an assistant who was compensated well enough to look the other way...

"Is this restaurant all right?" Noam asked abruptly, as if Noam was in his head somehow. Or maybe it was just that Dara had been quiet for too long. He hadn't even asked about Noam's week in turn.

"Yes," Dara said, sitting up straighter. "Of course. I've been wanting to try it, actually." Though in fairness, that was only because he'd heard they had a good cocktail menu.

Noam didn't look entirely convinced. And Dara wasn't entirely sure why it _mattered_ what he thought. This was Noam's choice.

"Are you happy with it?" Dara hedged.

Noam glanced around, as if evaluating his surroundings for the first time, and shrugged. "Seems nice. I'm really more of a food truck, taqueria kind of guy."

Dara's foot stilled, eyes narrowed. "Then why did you choose this place?" he asked, barely keeping the edge out of his voice. But honestly, if he was just going to complain--

"Because I thought you would enjoy it," he said simply.

Dara blew out a heavy breath. Nothing about this was as he'd expected. Noam was... he was so _nice._ Even when he was using his Dom voice, saying things that could be considered mildly threatening, Dara never got the sense that Noam would lash out or lose his composure. He was completely calm and sure of himself and right now looking at Dara like he could just _read him,_ like Dara was a text to be pored over and memorized, and for some reason he seemed more concerned with pleasing Dara than himself, and Dara didn't know what to do with any of that.

"Can I get a drink?" Dara blurted out. "I mean, is today... Are we going to...?"

"Today is just lunch," Noam said, and flagged down the waitress. When she came by the table, Noam ordered Dara a Lagavulin.

"You remembered what I like," Dara said.

Noam flashed him a smile. "Of course."

He said it like it was the most natural thing in the world. Like it was a priority. Dara's skin grew hotter. "Do you always move this slowly with a potential sub?"

"I do, yes. For several reasons."

The waitress arrived with Dara's drink then, and he took a sip before prompting, "Which are?"

"First and foremost, this arrangement only works if there's trust between us. I have to know someone to trust them. And I wouldn't expect you to trust me off the bat, either. My preference is longer term commitments, as opposed to one-off scenes. Not that I'd expect a commitment right away--we'd do a trial run, make sure we're compatible. And obviously either of us could end the contract at any point, for any reason."

That was... fair. Of course, the implication was that Noam would be worth the wait. Dara remained skeptical about that.

"I also require exclusivity," Noam went on. "You would be mine. Which means no subbing for anyone else, and no sleeping with anyone else for the duration of our contract."

Not entirely unexpected, given everything Noam had said so far. But Dara still wasn't sure how he felt about it. "I see," he said carefully.

"Would that be a problem for you?"

Dara considered it for a moment. What Noam was describing--the trust, the security--did sound nice, idealist as it might be. "Not necessarily."

Their food arrived, and they thanked the waitress and turned their focus to their own plates. Noam twirled pasta around his fork while Dara speared a chunk of tomato with his. They both ate quietly for a few moments, during which Dara attempted to process everything Noam had said. It almost sounded like Noam wanted a relationship. Like for him, it wasn't even about the kink, or the sex.

After swallowing a bite, Noam tilted his head, regarding Dara. "You seem like you have questions."

Dara glanced up, then set down his fork. He did, in fact, have questions. His head was swimming with them. "What would the trial run look like?"

Noam nodded, like he'd seen this one coming. "We'd negotiate a short-term contract up front--go over hard and soft limits, safewords, all of that. And then, ideally, I'd love for you to come stay with me for a weekend."

Dara choked on the sip of scotch he'd been taking. "An entire weekend?"

Noam cracked a smile. "We wouldn't be playing the entire weekend. But it would give us enough time to try a few things and start to figure out what you like."

Again, Noam was fixating on what _Dara_ would like. Not that Dara was complaining, but... it simultaneously gave Dara a thrill and made him wary. Ames had assured him Noam wasn't into anything too heavy or out there, but he wasn't exactly forthcoming. Dara still had no idea what to expect. What kinds of things Noam might ask Dara to do. "What would we be doing when we're not playing?"

Noam took another bite of food and shrugged. "Hanging out. I usually have a bit of work to catch up on over the weekends. But I like to read, and go for runs."

Dara's eyes narrowed. "And when we _are_ scening... what would that look like?" Noam could be into pet play for all Dara knew, could make Dara crawl around on his hands and knees and bark like a dog.

Once he'd swallowed his next bite, Noam pushed his plate forward and rested his forearms against the table again. His gaze trailed over Dara's face, then down his throat, his chest, before flashing back up to meet Dara's eyes. "That depends entirely on my mood. But I think you'd look beautiful with your wrists bound."

Immediately Dara felt another flush stain his cheeks. Noam's voice had gone low and husky, his gaze unwavering even as he went on.

"Maybe I'd tie you to my headboard and find out how easy it is to mark your skin. Map out every inch of you with my mouth, and find all your most sensitive spots. I'd bring you right to the edge and leave you there, completely at my mercy, until you were begging for release. And if you'd been very good, maybe I'd give it to you."

Dara swallowed and worked on steadying his breath. He blinked to focus his eyes again, watching as the intensity in Noam's expression was replaced with a smugness that suited him just as well. Dara got the sense Noam was reading him again, that he'd been testing the weight of each word, watching as they settled in Dara's mind and pulled reactions from Dara's features.

Suddenly Noam leaned back, slouching casually in his chair. "That give you an idea?"

All Dara could do was nod.

"Good." Noam checked the time on his phone and took another bite of pasta. "Unfortunately I've got to get back to the office shortly."

"Of course." Dara reached for his napkin and wiped his mouth, then drained the rest of his drink while Noam flagged the waitress again and paid the bill. They both stood from the table. Noam unrolled his sleeves and put on his jacket, and together they headed to the front of the restaurant, Noam's hand finding Dara's lower back and gently guiding him toward the door.

Once they were outside, that hand shifted to grip Dara's elbow firmly. Without another word, Noam dragged Dara into the alley that ran along the side of the restaurant, then pushed him into the brick wall. The next moment, his lips were on Dara's and his hand was cupping Dara's jaw. Dara gasped, lips parting for Noam, inviting Noam's tongue into his mouth. One of Noam's knees pushed between Dara's legs, and his free hand found Dara's hip, pinning him to the wall. A soft, needy sound left Dara, muffled against Noam's mouth, and Dara could feel Noam's lips curve into a smile. Noam softened the kiss, then nipped Dara's bottom lip playfully before pulling back.

Both of Noam's hands left Dara's body, his palms landing flat on against the brick, trapping Dara. "About that trial run," he began. "How does this weekend work for you?"

Dara licked his lips and nodded. His brain was scrambled in the best way. _This--_ this was what he'd been waiting for. "Good. Yes."

Noam made an approving sound. "Come to my office tomorrow at five. We'll review the paperwork and then head back to my place from there. Sound good?"

Again, Dara nodded.

"Say 'yes, sir.'"

"Yes, sir."

Noam flashed another smile, then leaned in to catch Dara's mouth in one last kiss. "Perfect. Can't wait."

Noam straightened and stroked his thumb across Dara's cheekbone before saying goodbye. Still frozen in place, Dara watched him round the corner, back onto the sidewalk and out of sight. He let out a slow breath and touched his fingers to his lips, a silky warmth running through him that had nothing to do with the scotch.

Tomorrow couldn't come soon enough.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Time for some kink negotiation! Slow (ish?) burn but we are getting there, friends.

Noam leaned back in his desk chair as his assistant ushered Dara into his office.

"Can I get you anything? Water or coffee?" she asked, and Noam raised his eyebrows at Dara, deflecting the question to him.

"No, thank you," Dara said, and so Noam offered Elise a smile and she excused herself, shutting the door to Noam's office behind her. Noam took a moment to observe Dara, cataloguing his outfit--tight jeans and a soft-looking sweater--and the way his hand fidgeted at his side, middle finger picking at his thumbnail. _Nervous._ Dara seemed to notice where Noam's gaze had landed, because he curled his hand into a loose fist, stopping himself.

Noam gestured for Dara to take a seat in one of the chairs across from him. "How are you?"

"Fine," Dara said, sounding almost annoyed with the question. He wasn't a fan of small talk. A beat later he tacked on, "Sir."

"Glad to hear it," Noam said, sucking in his cheek to keep from smiling. Meeting here had made the most sense. It wasn't neutral ground by any means, but it also wasn't nearly as intimate as Noam's apartment. Dara didn't seem like the type to do things by halves. If Noam left this up to Dara, they'd probably rush into this headfirst, without any discussion.

Good thing it wasn't up to Dara.

Still, Noam couldn't deny how badly he wanted to get Dara back to his place. He wouldn't rush this, but he had spent just about every moment since their lunch--every moment since he'd _met_ Dara--thinking about him. He took a steadying breath and opened his desk drawer, retrieving the contract he'd drawn up. Most of it was boilerplate, language the owners of Feverwake had created to be used as a starting off point for Safe, Sane, Sober, and Consensual practices. There was a section on play term, outlining this contract was valid only through the end of the weekend, unless terminated earlier by either party. A section for Dara to write down his preferred safe word. And of course, a section outlining hard and soft limits. Given Dara was new to all of this, Noam hadn't wanted to overwhelm him with an exhaustive list of kinks, so he'd only listed his own hard limits and given Dara space to do the same. Especially since this was just a trial, and they couldn't possibly try everything in the span of two days. It was entirely possible Dara would decide not to enter into a longer term commitment at the end of the weekend.

But Noam didn't want to think about that right now.

He slid the contract across the desk to Dara, then leaned forward to set a pen next to the stack of papers. "You'll see there are spaces for you to indicate if anything is a soft or hard limit, a must for you, or something you're not sure about, to be discussed later. Think of this as a jumping off point. Feel free to write in anything I've missed that's important to you, and of course we can always make changes in the future." _If_ they moved forward after the weekend. Noam offered a soft smile and leaned back again. "Let me know if you have any questions."

Dara reached for the document and glanced up at Noam through thick lashes, clearly wondering if Noam was going to sit there and watch as he read through it. Tempting as that was, Noam had work to wrap up before they left, so he turned back to his computer and started typing, doing his best to ignore the way Dara pursed his lips as he concentrated on the text. The way he brought the pen to his mouth, tapping the cap against his bottom lip as he debated before scribbling something down. The way he flushed sometimes before making a quick check mark. Noam was dying to know which parts brought that color to his cheeks.

Some time later, Dara set the paper down and looked up at Noam, who forced himself to ignore Dara until he'd finished writing the last few lines of code. Finally, Noam saved his work and shut his computer down. He picked up the contract without meeting Dara's eye and skimmed through it. The only surprise was that Dara hadn't put a single item in the hard limit column. Noam had to wonder if that was due to Dara's inexperience, or his actual preferences. He supposed they'd find out soon enough.

"Okay," he said, and stood from his desk. He signed the last page beside Dara's signature, then dropped his pen and tucked the contract into his messenger bag. "Ready?"

Dara tensed. "That's it?"

Noam tilted his head in question.

"You don't... want to discuss anything?"

At that, Noam smiled. "Not here." He finished packing up some work and his laptop, then moved around the desk to Dara, who stood from his chair and followed Noam out the door.

***

It was a short walk to Noam's apartment from his office. Dara seemed to be waiting for Noam to summon a car, but Noam distracted him by asking him about school, about what he wanted for dinner that night. Every question, even the most mundane, seemed to catch Dara by surprise. As if he didn't expect Noam to care at all about Dara's own interests or tastes.

Noam liked the way it felt, surprising Dara that way. And given how easy it was, he had no doubt he'd continue to do so over the next forty-eight hours.

They arrived at Noam's apartment, a spacious loft on the top floor of a refurbished tobacco warehouse. Noam let them in and headed straight for the sofa in the living room--or what Noam considered the living room, considering everything except the bathroom was really just...one open concept room.

"Take your shoes off," he told Dara, even though he'd done no such thing himself. But Dara didn't question him, sliding his boots off and setting them neatly by the door. Noam pulled the contract out of his bag and set it on the coffee table before stashing his bag beneath it and making his next command: "Why don't you fetch us a couple glasses of water from the kitchen?"

Again, Dara obeyed without question or complaint. Noam sat down on the sofa and watched as Dara walked over to his kitchen and pulled a glass from the open shelves, filling it at the tap. Dara made his way back over, moving carefully, so as not to spill, and offered Noam one of the glasses.

"Good boy," Noam murmured experimentally, and was rewarded with another blush and a flutter of Dara's lashes. Mentally Noam added _praise_ to Dara's preferences. Noam took one sip, then gestured for Dara to sit beside him. Noam set his glass down on the coffee table and grabbed contract, flipping through it again. Noam was by no means a newbie anymore, but it _was_ the first time he'd topped someone so new. If he was honest, he was probably just as nervous and excited as he thought--hoped--Dara was. "You didn't put anything down for your safeword," Noam said.

Beside him, Dara clasped his glass between both hands. "Yeah, I wasn't really sure what to put..."

Noam shrugged. "No biggie. How about we just stick with the stoplight system for now. Green for go, yellow to slow down or discuss, red for stop. You can also just say 'stop' and I will. Sound good?"

Dara nodded. Noam waited until Dara rolled his eyes and answered out loud. "Yes."

Noam moved on to the limits section, where his own hard limits were written in: _no blood play, no breath play, no age play._ He figured they were pretty self-explanatory, but just in case he asked if Dara had any questions about them.

"No. I wouldn't want to do any of that either," Dara told him.

"Okay," Noam said. "And there's nothing else you can think of that you want to take off the table now?"

"I'm not into humiliation. Or voyeurism." Dara cast an inquisitive glance at the front of Noam's apartment, which was all windows.

Noam smiled. "Don't worry, no one can see into this apartment. There's no good angle from the ground or the building across the street. I made sure of that before I moved in."

Dara nodded and took a sip of his water. "Good."

"I also want to be clear... I know I kissed you. And haven't exactly made it a secret that I'm attracted to you. But this doesn't have to involve sex. It can just be--"

"No, that's--" Dara licked his lips and put his glass down on the table. "Sex is good. I mean I'm good. With sex." His dark skin went a bit pink and Noam's lips twitched, watching Dara's nose wrinkle at his own phrasing.

"Perfect." Noam set the contract aside and pulled one leg up onto the couch and rested his elbow along the back so he was facing Dara properly. "Any other needs, wants, or musts you want to go over before we get started?"

"What you said at lunch... about tying me up. That sounded good."

A smile spread across Noam's face. "Bondage, then. What else?"

Dara was quiet for a moment. Then: "Maybe some impact play? I've tried a little bit, but... I'd be interested to see if you're any good at it."

Oh, he was such a little shit. Noam was absolutely going to show him what he could do with a flogger. But first things first. Noam leaned forward, into Dara's space. Dara's lips parted, eyes closing as Noam reached behind him. Noam grabbed one of the throw pillows and dropped it on the floor by his feet. "Kneel."

Dara blinked his eyes open and frowned at the pillow, then glanced back up at Noam, as if making sure he understood the command correctly. With a small huff--the sort of defiance Noam was pretty sure he could regularly expect from Dara--he sank to his knees.

And immediately reached for Noam's belt.

"Dara," Noam said, his voice sharp enough to make Dara freeze and glance up at him. "Did I say you could touch me?"

"Are you serious?" Dara quirked one brow and stared at Noam, indignant. Noam stared right back. Finally, Dara's expression shifted into something less pissy. His brow smoothed out and his eyes widened, doe-like as he pulled his hands a few inches away from Noam's lap. "No?"

"Was that a question?"

"No. Sir." Dara's voice was softer now, though still laced with irritation. And apparently Dara just couldn't help himself, because he eyed Noam for a moment, then asked. "Is this all we're going to do, though? You're just going to have me fetch you water and kneel at your feet all weekend?"

"No, I have a whole lot more planned for you. But first you have to prove to me that you can be good."

Dara's teeth raked over his bottom lip. "Sorry."

"I see we have a lot to cover this weekend," Noam mused, and god--he couldn't remember the last time it was this easy to switch into his Dom mindset. When Dara showed his bratty side, or when he teased Noam, it made Noam's whole body hum with the need to put him back in line. And when he was more subdued, Noam's fingers twitched with the need to touch him, soothe him. There was so much to explore in Dara, and Noam got a strange, almost primal sense of pride about being the one to get this opportunity. The chance to show Dara what it could be like to belong to someone. To Noam, more specifically.

Dara shifted on the floor, impatient or uncomfortable, until Noam slipped his fingers into Dara's hair. He began to play with the silken strands, twisting a curl around his knuckle, then combing the shorter hairs at Dara's nape. Gradually, Dara began to relax under Noam's touch, until he was slouched against Noam's leg, one temple resting atop Noam's knee.

"Let's go over some ground rules."

Dara stiffened when Noam spoke, pulling away from Noam's leg, and Noam got the impression he hadn't meant to let himself give in to Noam's touch so quickly.

"First, when we're in a scene, you'll address me as Sir. I don't want to hear you call me Master--and definitely don't call me Daddy. I'm not shaming anyone who is into those honorifics, but for personal reasons, I am very much not. Understood?"

Dara tilted his head back so he could meet Noam's gaze. "Yes, Sir."

"This weekend, you're free to ask any and all questions that come to mind. If you have an idea of something you want to try, tell me. I'm not going to discipline you this weekend, but I will point out any behaviors that will earn you discipline in the future. And I'll go over my plans for any impact play or bondage beforehand to make sure you're on board."

"Won't that kind of defeat the purpose?" Dara asked with a frown.

"It's necessary. Until you have a better understanding of your limits and preferences. But don't worry," Noam said, leaning closer to brush his lips against the corner of Dara's mouth. "I'll still give you what you need."

It was just beginning to get dark outside, so Noam pulled back and reached over to flick on the lamp beside the couch, casting an amber glow across the loft. He traced his fingertips along Dara's cheekbone, and allowed himself to smile broadly when Dara met his gaze, the anticipation written all over his face. Noam patted his thigh. "Up here."

Dara sucked in a breath, then crawled onto the couch to straddle Noam's hips. Automatically Noam's hands found Dara's waist, thumbs rubbing along Dara's lower ribs. After a moment, he reached up to wrap his hand around Dara's neck and pull him in for a kiss. He had every intention of starting slow, but pretty much the moment Dara's lips met his, Noam was consumed with desire. His pulse picked up and his fingers tightened around Dara's waist, drawing him closer. Noam had been half-hard ever since Dara got down on his knees, and he could feel that Dara was hard now as well. And then Dara rolled his hips down against Noam's, and- _-fuck._ Noam groaned and licked his way into Dara's mouth, and only once they were were both breathless did he break the kiss.

When Noam gave his next command, his voice came out low and rough. "Stand up and take off your clothes."


End file.
